I had my first baby dream last night, at least the first memorable one. In my dream, I gave birth during the night in my own bed. I woke up just enough to realize I was pushing and to catch the baby as it came flying out. Apparently the whole event was unexpected, despite the fact that the baby was definitely full-term. M was up getting ready for work and in another part of the house, so I called him on his cell phone to tell him. It was at that point, when I was cuddling with the baby and calling M, that I realized I hadn’t even checked to see whether the baby was a boy or girl yet. I was so excited to not see a penis when I checked. We never did make it to the hospital to get us checked out. We just moved right on, as though giving birth unexpectedly in your sleep happens all the time. By the end of the dream, we hadn’t even named our little girl yet, although we were trying to find the best name for her all the way through.
The whole dream was so realistic that it was weird waking up to find that I barely even have a baby belly yet, much less that I didn’t have a baby out of it. I think I know what prompted this dream, though. Last night M told me his theory that we’re having a girl this time. I want to think it’s true, but I don’t want to be disappointed if it isn’t, so I’m refusing to let myself buy the theory.
Here’s what he thinks: When you’re having a boy, your body is producing more testosterone, and a girl…more girly hormones. The boy hormones make your body respond the same way it does in boys. For example, last time I had a plague of chin whiskers that had to be plucked every day no matter what. It was almost as bad as being a teenage boy. This time, my body is acting particularly girly. I’m more emotional than I’ve ever been, crying an inordinate amount even for someone pregnant. I did not cry this much with PJ, despite all the emotional stress that came with it. I also have the biggest boobs. Seriously, I was an A cup before PJ. I was able to wear the same bras all the way through that pregnancy, even though they got a bit tighter by the end. I was a full B when I was nursing. I have only gotten bigger since then, since the pregnancy hormones set in. I’ll be lucky to fit into a big B cup now. I haven’t even worn a bra for days because I don’t have anything that fits and cramming these monsters into my tiny bras hurts badly. (M loves it, of course.)
Between the boobs and my already-swelling belly, I look a little pregnant all the time. That’s right; I’m only eight weeks pregnant and I look pregnant. I only have one pair of jeans that I can still wear, the pair I wore into the second trimester with PJ, and I already can’t button them at all. It better warm up soon here because all my maternity clothes are summery, and I have a feeling I’m going to need them sooner rather than later. I can’t spend my whole life in pajamas after all.
The nausea is really getting annoying. I’m about to give up trying anything to help it and let myself feel awful all the time. It’s frustrating to try everything you’ve ever heard of and still vomit. I mean, get this: I was sick this morning while wearing Sea-Bands, on my Zofran, and on an empty tummy. I’ve been trying preggie pops regularly, but they only help for about fifteen minutes. Everything else on my list to try has failed miserably. A fighter at heart, I’m about to concede defeat to this morning sickness. I can’t stand the hope of trying something new only to have it fail again. Besides, what else is there to try? I’m out of ideas.